


Billy Fucking Hargrove

by whorror_jpeg



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Baseball, Bullying, Dyslexia, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn, Tomboy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 05:57:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15136628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whorror_jpeg/pseuds/whorror_jpeg
Summary: the emotional adventures you find yourself in while helping Billy Hargrove is a ride or die.





	Billy Fucking Hargrove

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader
> 
> Prompts: 7- “You’re really cute and it’s ruining my life because I think about kissing you all the time” 5- A: “what are you doing?” B: “Avoiding.” A: “avoiding what?” B:”everything”
> 
> Song: idfc- Blackbear
> 
> Request: @starrywriting asks “Can I get number 7 with Billy Hargrove? :)”
> 
> Requests Are: Open
> 
> Warning(s): cursing, fluff, slight angst, derogatory LGBT names, fluff, Tommy H. (I fucking hate him and his face), dyslexia (also, I’m aware that dyslexia didn’t get it’s name til 87’, but shush I’m trying here), use of the word retard, did I mention fluff?, a bit slower burn, some bullying, LOTS of friendly teasing.
> 
> Word count: 2.1k (holy shit)
> 
> Author’s note: This turned into something I wasn’t expecting it to be, but I love it. I LOVE ME SOME FUNNY BILLY EVEN THO HE DOESN’T TRY TO BE FUNNY. I did add in the 5th prompt bc,,,,, i needed more inspiration,,,, and it looks really funny.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N). You were the captain of Hawkins High’s baseball team, known for your  _“don’t piss me off”,_   _“I_   _don’t take bullshit”_ attitude. No one really talked to you, but truth be told, you were lonely. Sure you had Steve, but that was all you had, really. Everyone on your team was either scared of you or sucked up to you. You just wanted to be treated like a normal fucking person.

Unfortunately, there was a new breed of awful human being: Billy  _Fucking_  Hargrove, newly crowned  _King_  of Hawkins who had just put you on his radar. Yeah, he was cute, but his ego matched his attractive qualities and well, if you had learned anything from algebra one last year, you knew a positive multiplied by a negative was always a negative.  _Always_. Yet, this didn’t stop him from invading your dreams-day or night.

When Steve came to you spouting the information that Billy was ‘King’, you thumped his forehead and told him to get over himself. He was still your best friend and you weren’t gonna put up with his self-pitying bullshit.

Last class was a pain in the ass; you had algebra two and BFH (your  _awful_  code name for Billy with Steve) sat directly next to you. He didn’t talk much the first weeks-just stared at you and screwed with the teacher to make people laugh. But when Tommy H. transferred in, they were loud and  _obnoxious_. Today was no exception. The teacher excused himself quickly to use the restroom. In the time it took him to do whatever he needed to, Tommy had thrown a paper at you- which you ignored, and Billy asked why you had a stick up your ass.

And then Tommy decided to take it upon himself to answer for you.

“Can’t blame her, she’s a fucking dike, Hargrove.”

You chuckled sardonically, “At least vaginas don’t look like mutant elephant trunks. Last I heard, yours was still a baby.” you looked at him, “Not a  _single_  hair if I remember Stacy Stevens correctly. When’d you sleep with her? Last week?”

Tommy blushed angrily, stuttering and trying to come up with a comeback when the teacher came back in.

You left the class quickly, practiced for your game coming up next Friday, and went home to shower.

Yet you somehow always came back to the high school.

It was nearing sundown when you got to the baseball field of the high school. You usually snuck in to think about things; the fence was an easy climb and, although security said they stayed until midnight, no one really did. You played some loud music on your walkman, dancing a bit while you practiced batting with the dozens of unused baseballs.

You felt someone tap your shoulder, and, like most people, screamed and turned quickly.

“ _Billy?!_ ”

You ripped your headphones off, “I should kick you in the nads, meathead! The hell you doing?”

He was laughing, a baritone sound that wasn’t his normal doggish bark. You glared at him, pausing your walkman and setting it on the bench you were next to.

“I should be asking _you_ that,” he replied breathily, still laughing.

“ **I’m avoiding,** ” you said, hitting another ball, gaining a whistle from Billy when it went far.

He was like a dog, you could almost see little puppy ears perk in interest, “ **avoiding what?** ”

You glared at him, “ _ **Everything.**_ ” and with that, he was quiet as you hit another ball after tossing it up in the air.

“I was out for a walk, saw you here.”

You turned and backhanded his chest, “so you were  _stalking_ me?!”

His face quickly got defensive, “No! I-”

You smirked, “Admit it,  _Hargrove_.”

He sighed, lowering his head a bit, “Steve told me you’d be here. I wanted to ask for help on the algebra homework.”

You stared at him incredulously.

“You get straight A’s in that class, the highest grade I’ve gotten in there was a D-after corrections.”

You stifled a laugh, “The great  _Billy Hargrove_  is asking the class  _dike_  if he can have algebra help.”

He gave an upset huff and sat on the bench, playing with your walkman. You stared at him for a brief moment, his face was lowered but you could tell he was genuinely upset by your response.

Putting down your bat, you wiped the sweat off your forehead and rested your other hand on your hip.

You sighed, “You  _really_  need help?”

He looked up through his lashes, nodding.

“Fine. My house tomorrow at 3. Bring me a pop.”

* * *

And at 3 sharp, he was there, and not with just one can of soda, an entire case of them. You smiled and led him to the kitchen, putting on a record and sitting down at the table.

“Alright, Hargrove, give me your old test.”

He hummed, handing you the crumpled paper. As you went through his awful handwriting, you noticed he did have most of it right, only if some of the numbers were switched or flipped. His sixes were nines, some of his digits were in the wrong spot.

You grabbed your calculator, seeing what his actual score should’ve been on the short answer test.

“Billy, you should’ve gotten an 87%,” you shook your head, confused. Billy looked up, equally confused and surprised, “your numbers are right, for the most part, they’re just… out of place.”

He rolled his eyes when you looked at him.

“No, seriously Billy! You’re _actually_ smart, I mean, for a dumbass. Have you gotten tested for anything?” he opened his mouth but you cut him off right before he could say anything, “ _besides_ STD’s.”

He glared, muttering a ‘no’.

“You should, I read somewhere that some guy identified a learning disability- Dyslexia. That could be why you have shit grades, Billy.”

His face grew angry and defensive, “I’m not a  _retard_.”

You laughed, “okay, firstly, stop acting like one, secondly, no Billy, your brain just confuses things, you’re  _really_  smart, actually. But if you don’t get help for it you’re not gonna pass.”

He huffed and sat back.

“Listen, if you’re  _so_  against therapy, I’ll ask my dad on how to maybe practice more. He’s a child psychologist, he can-”

“I’m not a child!”

“YOU’RE BEING A FUCKIN’ BABY THOUGH STOP INTERRUPTING ME.”

Billy’s eyes widened and brows furrowed.

“As I was saying  _before you interrupted me_ ; he can tell me how therapy would work with you and I can help.”

You smiled. Billy sat, staring at you, expressionless, before thanking you.

* * *

For the next few weeks, you and Billy had tutor sessions every day in your kitchen for a few hours, at the times he’d fall asleep, you’d wake him up a bit and guide the sleepy boy to your guest room, usually reserved for Steve. People like Tommy H. and Carol had stopped bugging you, not that you minded. Billy started showing up to all of your practices and games, congratulating you and ruffling your hair after you’d take it out of your updo.

Progress was increasing with him, to say the least.

On Monday, you’d waited at Billy’s car, as he’d been held back by your algebra two teacher. Everyone had generally left, so it was easy to see the mullet wearing man-child run to you, a paper in one hand, both arms spread eagle as he ran, a huge grin plastered on his face. You laughed, shaking your head and eyebrows furrowed.

He pushed his test to your face, a big A+ in red marker with a small  _“good job!”_  circled boldly.

Your whole face brightened, “ _Holy_   _shit_ , Billy! Dude, let’s go celebrate!”

He jumped around, screaming happy obscenities in the air out of excitement, before getting into his car.

He pulled up to an outdoor movie screening, as you told him to pick where to go. Evil Dead was screening and he’d been  _itching_  to see it. He’d gotten food and drinks, and already started munching on the popcorn, rather than wait for the movie to play, even though there were only 5 minutes left. You were invested in your walkman when he playfully poked your face.

“Touch me with your buttery popcorn fingers  _again_  and I’ll punch you in the nads.”

He laughed, knowing your threat was empty. And offered you some popcorn as you put your walkman’s headphones in your lap.

Billy wiped his hands on a napkin he’d gotten and picked up your walkman, asking what was on it rhetorically, before opening it up and looking at the tape.

“ _Happy Birthday Mix, Volume 8_? What’s that mean?”

You smiled,  “Oh, it’s something Steve started when we were ten. If we couldn’t afford birthday presents then we’d make each other little mixtapes of songs we liked.”

He chuckled, “Hearing you say it like that makes me think you  _aren’t_  gay.”

You looked at him, bemused, “Wait, you don’t actually think I’m gay, do you?”

“You’re….  _Not_?”

You snorted, laughing hysterically, “No, Jesus Christ! That’s a  _rumor_ , Hargrove!”

“But you didn’t say anything when Tomm-”

“I  _hate_  Tommy, with a passion, but it gave me a reason to bring up his dick size.”

“But you’re such a…”

“ _Tomboy_? Yeah, that’s what happens when your best friend since you were four is a jock, Hargrove. Ya know, you really are dumb sometimes.” you shook your head while smiling, paying attention to the beginning scene. Billy went to say something else but instead chewed on the Twizzler you’d shoved in his mouth to keep him quiet.

Eventually, the movie ended. And saying Billy loved every second of it was a huge understatement. He wouldn’t shut up about it on the way back to your house. He walked you to your front porch, all smiles. You really hadn’t seen him smile so much in one day, and it was honestly the  _sweetest_  smile you’ve seen. He really did have a nice personality when he wasn’t being his school self.

“I had a nice time tonight, Billy.  _But if you talk that much again in a movie I’m gonna scramble your mullet and feed it to you._ ”

He laughed, looking up.

“You just had the best night tonight, didn’t you?” your comment was rhetorical, and as such was ignored while you turned your house key.

You turned back to him, he was already looking back at you, a half smile plastered to his face.

“What?” you pointed your eyes.

“Nothing. I just wanted to say thank you, (Y/N).”

Your face slowly grew hot from holding back a smile, his own growing while you pursed your lips.

“Ya know, Hargrove,  **you’re really cute, and it’s ruining my life because I think about kissing you all the time.** ” you glared, pouting. He calmed down a bit, getting closer to you and cupping your jaw, trying to not laugh at you, who was still glaring at him.

“I’m being  _serious_ , asshole!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He mocked, leaning in to kiss you. You immediately melted, putting your hands on his ribcage. You smirked, feeling his heartbeat.

Pulling back you pushed his forehead with your finger, “I make you nervous or something, Hargrove?”

He scoffed, “ _Or something_. Go inside.”

You stuck your tongue out, “you’re taking me on a date Friday.”

“Uh huh. Goodnight, (Y/N).”

He smiled softly, watching you go inside, you muttering a “goodnight, assface” back before closing the door.

You shook your head, smiling.

“Billy  _Fucking_  Hargrove.”


End file.
